Kisses In The Dark
by Natasha Dawn
Summary: At the age of 15 Kurt Hummel was abducted and sold into the illegal sex trade, now at 19 he has given up hope. Blaine Anderson is 30, living life as a high flying lawyer married to a beautiful woman with a daughter and yet he longs for something more. When the two meet in an explosion of passion lives will be in danger and two hearts will learn to love again.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! **

**I have had this story in my head for a while and just wanted to get the first chapter down. I am already writing another fiction at the moment called Ten Things Kurt Hummel Should Never Have Done Which I will be continuing. **

**This story is a lot darker than my others and features moments of an upsetting nature including - violence, dub-con, non-con and angst. But I promise amidst the hurt there will be lots of fluffy love as the story progresses. **

**I would love to hear your feedback on whether I should continue this fiction or not? Your thoughts mean the world to me! **

**Anyway here it is chapter one of Kisses In The Dark... **

**Enjoy... **

Darkness. The smell of mold. A child's laughter.

It's the laughter that hits Kurt the hardest. When did such an innocent sound get so warped into something that evokes fear and terror. When a glass strikes the floor and smashes into a thousand pieces was it an accident? Or did the owner of the glass fall too to the ground…. Smashing lives into a million pieces. A million questions. A million unknowns.

Kurt stares blankly up at the ceiling above him, grey in colour, stained black water lines spreading intricately over the roof like veins. When he first came here… when he first lay back on this same bed, the ceiling was a soft blue colour, unmarked, pristine. Nothing lasts forever. Things grow old, things wither and die. People laugh and people cry. Glasses smash and lives crash down around you.

Thus is the fault of being human. The curse even.

Kurt pulls the thin blanket tighter around his body, the air of the room slightly chilly due to a soft crack in the window. The night is young, Kurt knows he wont sleep. Squeezing his eyes shut once before opening them, Kurt slid off the bed and stood shakily to his feet. Rolling his head to the side causing the muscles in his neck to crunch unhappily at the movement, he tried to relax. He'd go out. He has some money saved in his little black wallet, he'll go out and remember what its like to be alive. Why does this bloody room have to look so much like a fucking morgue? As Kurt pulls on a pair of tight skinny black jeans, a shirt and beaten leather jacket, he can't help but suppose the air of death clinging to the walls was the death of his childhood. The murder of his childhood perhaps. No time to grow up. Time to be a big boy now.

Kurt rubs a dab of cologne he'd pulled earlier out of a magazine onto his wrist. Time to be a big boy now. Big boys don't cry.

Cry. Cry. Scream. I like that. Scream again.

Kurt pulls out his toothbrush and toothpaste, scrubbing his teeth, the soft scratching sound pulling him out of his memories, spitting the mint like substance out into the sink and washing it away. Wash it away. He rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger gently, unlocking the door and walking out, wallet tucked deep in his trousers. He hates to save the money, he can't stand how it feels in his fingers. He cant stand that its still warm from _their _hands when they give it too him, barely giving him a chance to count it before harsh hot breath is on his neck and fingers thrust haphazardly down his pants.

Kurt locks the door behind him. People don't sympathize with him and he doesn't look for sympathy. Why would he? Why would they? It's his choice, they say, his lifestyle. He's a man. Getting paid to have sex is the dream right? That's what they say, clapping him on the back and laughing. Kurt only smiles. He'll drink to that. What's the point in setting the record straight? In explaining why he's really there in that dank dark room with the creaky doorknob that alerts him he has a _visitor. _He doesn't want to let their glasses smash to the floor. So he'll laugh. He laughs like a child, that's what they tell him.

_They _never let him be a child.

Kurt doesn't dwell. He turns his phone off for the night. No visitors today, his body is tired. They'll let him have the evening off. He's a good boy. They trust him. The hallways are in a worse state than his room, he tries not to think about what the large dark patches on the brown wallpaper are, his eyes flicking to the floor.

The night air is cool and clear. Perfect. The sweet icy oxygen that fills Kurt's lungs is exactly what he needs, his breath exhaling in smoky white puffs. He's brought new shoes, they're red with a long grey stripe across the top and grey laces, Kurt ponders on how strange the bright red coloring of the fabric looks in his grey room. Even against the grey of the pavement they look starkly out of place. Kurt smiles. It's nice to have some colour in his life.

It strikes him only after he had brought them that they are the colour of blood but he decides that maybe that's a good thing. Blood is the sign of life just as much as it is the sign of death, he thinks of every step he takes in those blood red shoes as being the soft thud of a live heart. It's nicer that way. He feels revitalized.

The bar is not too far down the road, the light from the misted windows only serving to provide the dullest of glows onto the dark shaped puddles outside the door. Kurt sighs. They often get clients drunk from this bar. If they're too drunk they're not allowed in, but more often than not Kurt finds himself cleaning sick off his sheets along with other bodily fluids. It's a good day if he's provided with a client too drunk to get it up. It's a bad day if he has to tend to a cuts and bruises of either himself or someone else because their client was too drunk and beat the shit out of them.

The door doesn't make a sound as Kurt pushes it open, the stench of smoke and cologne filling his nose as he walks inside. One or two heads turn as he enters the bar but they soon returned to the bottom of their cups or to the person sat opposite them. Kurt makes his way straight to the bar where the barman is waiting, a smile on his face as Kurt sits down. Jeff is always nice to him.

'Kurt.' Jeff says, already grabbing him a beer and shoving it across the table. 'Nice to see you all in one piece, its been a while.'

Kurt nods and pulls out his wallet as he wraps his fingers around the cool glass of the bottle.

'Thanks… I've been busy.' Kurt says, flicking the cap off and dragging it to his lips.

Jeff rejects the cash in Kurt's wallet, he always does. 'Its on the house.' He says with a wave of his hand. Kurt places the cash on the bar anyway, he always does.

'Your looking good.' Jeff says, slinging his cloth over his shoulder as he grabs a beer for himself. 'Healthy.' He adds.

Kurt knows what he means. Jeff has seen Kurt at his worst, skin white, eyes purple and hollow, littered with bruises and off his head. Jeff saw Kurt through the period when Kurt refused to eat. He's eating better now. The hollow concave of his stomach beginning to fill out to resemble an actual human torso.

'You hitting on me?' He asks with a wry smile, the beer burning down his throat as he takes a thirsty gulp.

Jeff laughs. Leaning his elbows on the bar softly. 'Now now, you've met my wife.'

Kurt only rolls his eyes. 'Most of them have wives.'

Jeff laughs again, Kurt enjoys the soft sound, its rare he hears genuine laughter. 'She always asks about you, she wants to know how you are, every night when I go home… She frets when you don't come into the bar.'

'Tell her I don't swing her way.'

'Kurt…' Jeff's face is suddenly serious, flicking over Kurt's face. 'Be serious for a moment… We both worry about you, come and live with us, we've got a spare room, Paula would love to have you.'

It's an offer Jeff has made a million times before. Jeff and Paula are older than Kurt by a few years, Paula is a kindergarten teacher and Jeff opened the bar a few years ago. After trying to have a baby, Paula found she would be incapable of ever carrying a child, both were heart broken but accepted this was the way it was. Now they were in the process of adoption.

It's an offer Kurt has refused a million times before.

'You don't need me in your house.' Kurt says quietly, the beer in his hands already half gone. 'I don't think the adoption agency would approve.'

Jeff is silent, moving to the side to serve a man in brown leather jacket and cap. Once he's poured the drink he returns, Kurt lets his finished beer fall onto its side. A small commotion at the door makes him turn his head, his eyes squinting to try and make out what's happening, a man with an umbrella had briefly gotten stuck in the frame but he manages to push through, droplets of water falling off his dark curls. He's far away but Kurt can immediately tell he's deeply attractive, a rarity for such a bar. His suit is far too expensive for this side of town, a shiny watch hanging off a muscled wrist.

'Someone has a death wish.' Jeff mutters under his breath causing Kurt to look back at him with a smile. Both men wondering what an earth a man with money was doing at this time, in this bar.

* * *

Blaine sinks down into the padded seats of the train with a relieved exhale. He can't wait to get home. It's just been one of those days. It started happily enough, he kissed his rosy-cheeked wife, Janie, goodbye and jiggled his three-month-old baby on his hip before grabbing his briefcase and heading out. Him and his wife had even had sex the night before. A rarity. It was stinted and mechanic and Blaine certainly hadn't enjoyed himself but it was enough.

By the time he'd got to the office things were already going downhill. For a start it was pouring with rain, the droplets of water beating the glass windows like bullets as he rushed into the foyer. His assistant, Mary, an attractive women in her twenties had rushed to his side the second his stepped through the door.

'Sir, the Terrance-Green case has taken a turn for the worst, his wives lawyer found a video tape of him actually screwing the girl in question and police think she was underage.' Mary said, pushing her glasses up her nose as she clutched the clipboard to her soft chest.

Blaine groaned. How disgustingly cliché. When he'd dreamed of becoming a lawyer he certainly hadn't imagined he'd spend his days defending husbands who couldn't keep their pricks in their pants for more than five seconds and were now being robbed of everything they owned by pissed off wives or pissed off, and apparently inappropriately young mistresses.

'Call him in, I want a copy of the tape and an explanation from the man himself.' Blaine said gruffly, hitting the elevator button and making his way up to his office. Mary nodded and scribbled down a note.

'Coffee Sir?' She asked.

Blaine pressed a ten-pound note into her hands. 'Full fat cappuccino, get yourself something as well.'

Mary nodded her gratitude and scurried out the office.

Nigel Terrance had no explanation for the tape. Blaine smacked his head repeatedly on the wood of his desk as the man left. This case was going to be hard to win.

He spilled his cappuccino down his suit and had to send Mary out for a change. His wife rang him to tell him her mother was coming to stay. His brother rang him to ask for some money to pay his rent for that week.

By the end of the day Blaine was exhausted and in a foul mood.

The train smelled like piss. Nothing-new there.

He couldn't even contain the string of violent profanities that escaped his mouth as the train stopped at some station in the gritty part of downtown and informed him that the carriages would be taking him no further due to a flood at the other stations. Blaine realized he was going to have to get a cab, as he walked out the station he also realized he had no phone signal.

After kicking the wall a few times he decided to find a bar. That was how he ended battling to get his umbrella through the door of some disgustingly grimy bar that made Blaine's skin crawl but maybe a good stiff drink would do him some good. Still muttering curses under his breath he approached the bar where a skinny, pale skinned boy was sat, soft brunette hair falling over one of his grey eyes. The boy was laughing he noticed as he battled his umbrella into his holder. He didn't blame him, Blaine looked ridiculously out of place in the bar. Perhaps he should have taken his gold watch off…

He sat down on the bar stool, the barman leaving the side of the boy to stand in front of Blaine.

'What can I get you?' He asked, his smile causing his eyes to crinkle in the corner.

'Something strong.' Blaine replied, discarding his sodden jacket to the floor as he dragged a hand through the soaked curls on his head, trying to sort out the straggled mess.

Jeff smiled wider. 'Of course.' He said, grabbing a bottle of something of a gold colour and pouring it onto some ice.

Blaine turned to the boy by his side, his eyes flicking over the flawless skin of his cheeks, only softly blushed from the biting cold of outside. 'You got a phone I could borrow? Mines not picking up signal.'

The boy looked surprised at the question, his lips already parted to take a sip of what looked like his second beer. The barman cut in before the boy could reply.

'I have.' He said, tossing Blaine an old looking mobile.

The boy shot the barman a glare from underneath his long dark eyelashes. He really did have pretty eyes, Blaine thought, the soft grey was filled with sadness and tension. His fingers began to twitch around his glass the bizarre want to wrap his arms tightly around the small-framed boy until the sadness in those pretty irises went away filling him.

Fucking hell.

He really was tired.

Uttering a thank you, he grasped the mobile in his hand and turned to make the call, pushing any thoughts of sliding his fingers over that soft porcelain skin until it flushed with hot blood rushing to the surface under his touch… Blaine was good at suppressing such urges. He'd been doing it for 15 years.


	2. Chapter 2

'You _promised _me you'd be home tonight!' Janie screeches down the phone, the sound of a baby crying hitting Blaine's ear and making him wince, his brow creasing as the first twinges of a headache twitch behind his tired eyes.

'I know honey but I have to call a cab from here so I'm just going to be late! Its not my fucking fault!' Blaine says, his voice rising a little. A woman looks up from a table, muttering under her breath at Blaine's profanity and Blaine wants to hit something.

'Don't you swear at me!' Janie yells back and Blaine pulls the phone a few centimeters from his ear, a dull throb starting in his temple. 'Just… get home please, I'm tired Blaine… I'm so fucking tired.'

Blaine leans against the side of the bar, not caring that he is pressing the shoulder of a thousand dollar suit into the wall of scabby bar where the peeling wallpaper smells like smoke and sex. 'I know honey, I won't be long I promise.'

Janie hangs up. Blaine holds the phone to his ear for a few more moments as he looks around, contemplating whether to call a cab right now. The idea of going home makes his headache feel like someone is cracking his skull with a rock and he cant help but wonder where it all went wrong. But maybe that's life. Its certainly Blaine's life. Blaine wonders why his head won't just go numb like the rest of him.

Blaine walks back to the bar after closing the phone and sits back in his seat, handing the phone back over to the bartender before downing his drink, the slick gold liquid burning down his throat and making his lungs tighten briefly and fuck a small part of him likes the discomfort.

'Was that your wife?'

Blaine looks up slightly surprised at the question for a moment, realizing this is the first time the boy with the grey eyes has spoken and Blaine feels his stomach twist at the soft and sweet dulcet tones of his voice. His headache subsides slightly as he turns his head to look at him.

Kurt's head is cocked slightly to the side, his soft long eyelashes beating at the tops of his flushed cheeks each time he blinks and Blaine can't seem to take his eyes off him. He reminds Blaine of an angel, so very out of place in this dark and smoky bar. A fallen angel.

'Yes, Janie.' Blaine replies simply, looking back into the empty glass, the ice beginning to melt and turning the once rich gold liquid into a dirty looking light yellow. Blaine feels a shift beside him and suddenly his side feels a lot warmer than before. The boy has moved an inch closer and he's the only thing in this bar that doesn't smell like death gone cold, he smells like cologne and mint all wrapped up together and its cheap but its fresh and Blaine tries to stop the slight flare in his nostrils, the way his mind wonders if the boys skin tastes the same…

'I'm Kurt.'

'Blaine.'

Kurt rolls his tongue softly behind his lips. Blaine. A nice name, Kurt thinks as he keeps his eyes firmly on the side of Blaine's face. Kurt recognizes the hunger in Blaine's eyes; he's seen it a million times before. They always look hungry, like they need something more and Kurt is that something, something for them to dine on and then leave having paid their bill. But Blaine seems different. Hungry but… subdued. No hand pressing to Kurt's thigh or groping blindly at his lower back.

_Are you hungry Blaine? _

Kurt eyes his wallet. 1000 for the night before… they took 600… 500 in his room… 20 dollars in his wallet. Kurt eyes Blaine's watch again and wonders if its worth the generous tip Blaine might throw his way. Kurt's tired, his limbs feel like they weigh a ton but if he works tonight maybe he can take tomorrow off and come back to the bar to watch some TV with Jeff. They would be pleased if Kurt brought in someone as rich as Blaine appears to be… maybe he would even get two nights off.

It's decided. Kurt lets his knee thump softly against Blaine's as he turns to face the other man. Kurt doesn't even realize how hard Jeff is staring at him, how much he is willing Kurt not to do what he has seen done so many times.

'We have a kid together… Janie and I.' Blaine says suddenly, his fingers gripping into the glass of his drink and his knee still warm where Kurt brushed into him. Blaine's been so good, years and years of being so good and he isn't about to waste all that work on a boy so young and Blaine honestly doesn't want to even know what Kurt is doing in this bar but he bets he can guess. Blaine gets his phone out of his pocket and flicks the screen on, the smiling face of a baby lights it up and he holds it out to Kurt. 'Erin.'

Kurt swallows, wondering if perhaps he was reading the signs wrong. 'She's beautiful.' Kurt mutters softly, the photo reminds him of the only picture in his possession. An old and wrinkled Polaroid of himself as a baby and he's smiling. Just like Erin. He's smiling because back then he didn't know that this would be where he would be sitting 18 years later, didn't know of the rough touches and sweaty skin. He only knew a world that seemed so new and kind. So bright until those cracks begin to spread.

Blaine nods because she is. The only thing keeping his marriage together smiles up at him from the lit screen. Erin had been a surprise; Blaine had packed his bags and was ready to move out when Janie told him she was pregnant. They decided to give it another shot but a marriage born from their desire for their baby to have a family was a marriage that was doomed from the start.

Blaine orders another drink, the bartender eyes him warily as he gets another glass, fills it with ice and pours the liquid over the top. Blaine is surprised when Kurt also orders another drink and the bartender gives it to him without blinking. The boy doesn't look older than 19 but Blaine wonders if that is all part of his act and shifts uncomfortably at how much that turns him on.

Blaine had always figured his urges were just part of a phase, the young adventurous side of him wanting to seek and explore every thing the world had to offer him. Never once had he considered it a lifestyle. Anderson's married well, had beautiful children, good jobs and lived long, Blaine certainly wasn't about to ruin the reputation his family had worked so hard to accomplish. And yet the urges never left, burning deep within his belly, an ache between his legs that made his toes curl and a painful thud in his heart should he ever let his mind wonder.

Kurt talks. He has always found that talking is the best way. He might hate every second of it but this is his life now and he does it well. Once Kurt realized he would never escape he figured he would at least become good at what he did. Talking makes the more nervous clients trust him. Whereas some just want him to shut up and take it others want him to talk to them, craving some sort of human attention. The kind of human attention that Kurt used to crave. The cradle of his mother's arms, his fathers strong hugs or any kind of physical affection that wasn't tainted by the fact that they only wanted to use him.

'So, Kurt… you at college?' Blaine asks, amidst Kurt talking about how he met Jeff. His golden hazel eyes are resting on the porcelain arches of Kurt's face. Kurt stares right back at him. Game set.

Game on.

'No.' Kurt replies, popping the top button of his shirt gently. Not too far. Too far and it will reveal a soft long mottled bruise across his collar. _That's not good for business, _they tell him. _Stop sending me the violent ones then! Protect me! _Kurt had snapped back, balling his sheets up into his fist. _You are protected, you let them mark you, whore. _'Where did you study?'

'Any plans to attend?' Blaine questions again, ignoring Kurt's attempt to change the subject, the weathered pad of his thumb rubbing unconscious circles into the glass of his cup.

_Wishing that was me? _Kurt wonders with his eyes, flicking from Blaine's hand to the glass and then back up at Blaine's face. Blaine ignores him. He sees the question in Kurt's eyes. The alcohol beginning to settle in his mind like a soothing fog. He really should be calling a cab…

'Perhaps.' Kurt says, letting the tips of his own fingertips play across his own throat gently. No bruises there. _I don't do hickeys, touch my neck again and I'll scream. _

'I should call a cab, don't want to keep the wife waiting.' Blaine stands up slowly, pulling out his wallet and dropping a 100-dollar bill onto the counter. Kurt swallows. 100 dollars… that's 60 dollars extra. He was right. Blaine was a generous tipper. 'May I borrow your phone for one more call?' Blaine asks Jeff, sliding the bill across the counter towards the barman. Jeff snatches it up quickly; this guy really did have a fucking death wish if he was waving around money like that in a bar like this, handing Blaine his mobile.

'I'll wait with you outside… don't want to stand about in a neighborhood like this money man.' Kurt says.

Blaine laughs, his head tilting a little so that Kurt gets a full view of the Adams apple bobbing underneath the cleanly shaven skin of his throat. 'No offence kid but you don't really look like you could protect me.'

Kurt slides off the barstool, his new shoes thumping against the floor softly as he smiles. Kid. They always say he looks like a kid. _That's why they like you… people pay big money to feel like they are deflowering an angel. _How eloquent Kurt had thought at the time, thick gruff fingers gripping at his jaw as they stroked over the slightly plump flesh covering high and well-sculpted cheekbones. 'Trust me, you don't want to stand out there alone.'

'Kurt.' Jeff speaks for the first time in a while and Kurt turns to look at him.

'What?'

'Can I speak to you for a minute? Alone?' Jeff says quietly, his face displaying not a single thought that he is thinking as he throws the bar towel over his shoulder, tired eyes still on Kurt's face.

'I'm going to wait outside.' Blaine says, holding up Jeff's phone. 'I'll pop this back in when I'm done.' Blaine turns and walks out, fingers curling around his sodden umbrella as he drags it out the door slowly.

Kurt turns to Jeff once the creaking door has slammed its closure, his slender arms folded over a boned chest, taking the stance of a child about to be told off and thoroughly ready to hold his ground.

'You are going to stay here.' Jeff says firmly, leaning against the bar so that he can speak closer to Kurt's face. 'You are going to stay here and you will not go with that man, I'll pay you what he would if you just stay here, sleep at mine tonight please Kurt? Just one night? Paula wants to see you.'

Kurt swallows softly. He can almost imagine it, taste it on his tongue, Jeff and Paula's warm home, a sofa bed with thick blankets and plenty of pillows because Jeff has always told him that Paula is simply obsessed with pillows, she loves them, cant get enough. Says they brighten up the place, make it a home. Kurt glances at the clock on the wall. He only has an hour until curfew. _If you are not home by curfew we will find you, you hear me? We. Will. Find. You. _'Maybe some other time, tonight I have to work.'

'You don't _have _to do anything Kurt! Come on, let me fucking help you I don't know what else I can do for you!' Jeff yells, a few heads turn this time, a few eyes look Kurt up and down then flick to Jeff, wondering if their lovers or related before turning back to their drinks or the drunken hookup they were on the cusp of scoring.

'Yes I do, I don't need your pity okay? Just let me do my job.' Kurt says, trying not to let his face convey any of the hurt behind his eyes because he has to be rude, he cant let Jeff think that anything is wrong. 'I want this, I… enjoy doing this okay?' Kurt tries not to choke on the words as they leave his throat tasting as bitter and as strong as bile, clamping his mouth shut.

Jeff sighs and takes a step back. 'Just take care of yourself Kurt, I don't want to be the one to get the call that your dead in some fucking ditch.' And with that he is at the other side of the bar serving two young women in short dresses, leaning into each other and giggling as they get their drinks. Kurt watches him leave without another word. He wishes he could tell Jeff the real story, the story why he turns down the older mans offers every night but he would never put Jeff or Paula in danger like that. Kurt hopes that they get their baby, they are going to be great parents.

Outside Blaine closes the phone after having called a cab, who tell him they are going to talk half an hour to get one to him and after calling Janie to tell her the cab will be half an hour and god Blaine just wants to kick something again as he swears under his breath. A few young guys in black hoods stroll past, calling Blaine a few names as they do. You don't dress well in this part of town without being a pimp apparently. Blaine turns back into the bar and gives Jeff his phone back without a word before returning outside, about to do up his suit jacket against the winds but a soft voice startles him from behind.

'You want to roll your sleeves down big guy, they wont hesitate to take your whole hand if its got that watch on it.' Kurt says, making his way slowly over towards Blaine, a tell tale swish to his hips as he approached the older man. Blaine couldn't help but notice Kurt looked cold, the beaten jacket he was wearing not looking substantial enough to keep the boys soft and pale skin warm.

'I think the only danger I'm in out here is from you kid.' Blaine replies, giving Kurt a smile and trying not to give away how suddenly nervous he is. All he needs to do is resist for another half an hour. He can do that; he's not an animal for Christ sakes.

Kurt only smiles. 'I'm no danger to you, you said so yourself how weak I look.'

'Physically perhaps, but you play a good game kid, I'm almost impressed.'

Kurt takes another step forward, one more inch and his breath would touch Blaine's face on every soft exhale, his pink lips still curved ever so slightly in the corners. 'You think this is a game?'

'Absolutely.' Blaine says, taking a step back, one more step forward and Blaine was sure he would be able to smell what the boys skin smelt like, feel his breath tickling his lips even. 'A loosing game, get out while you can.'

'I can take care of myself, and you if you only let me.' Kurt says, his voice has dropped an octave Blaine notices and he hates the way his brain immediately cooks up images and sounds of Kurt saying his name in that gravelly tone, groaning it out hoarsely perhaps.

'I'm married.' Blaine says, and he knows how lame that sounds but it feels good to say it. He's not sure if he's saying it to Kurt or himself if he is honest.

'I can see the hunger in your eyes Blaine… Let me feed you Blaine, you've been hungry for so long.' Kurt takes those last two steps forward until he is almost nose to nose with the older man. Blaine was right. He smells the mint on Kurt's breath again mixed with the cologne and a hint of soap on Kurt's skin. Kurt's breath tickles his chin and suddenly the whole day is enough, Blaine has had enough.

'Get away from me.' Blaine hisses, giving Kurt's chest a shove. 'I don't want your fucking business! Just fuck off and be a whore somewhere else!'

No one around them blinks an eyelid at the scene; Kurt stumbles back and hits the curb with a thump, wincing as pain shoots up his lower back. Its not the first time he has been called a whore and it certainly wont be the last so Kurt cant explain the tears that suddenly fill his eyes. 'Fuck you, ass hole!' Kurt yells back at Blaine, trying to shakily get back up onto his feet.

Blaine looks momentarily shocked that he had managed to shove the boy over, his mouth opening and closing before he leant down and wrapped his arm around Kurt's waist, helping him stand up slowly. 'Shit, I'm so sorry… Fuck, are you okay?'

'Whatever, get off me.' Kurt snaps, trying to shove Blaine back off him but Blaine holds on. He's older and stronger than the boy in his arms and he'll be damned if he's going to let him limp home in this neighborhood. Kurt tries to shove again but his lower spine throbs in protest and he leans into Blaine's side a little.

'Come on, let me walk you home.' Blaine says. 'Just… just lean into me okay?' Blaine tightens his hold around Kurt's waist and Blaine can't help but notice how thin he is, soft rib poking into Blaine's own muscled chest.

Kurt doesn't say another word, only gently nudging Blaine when they need to turn a corner until the large house with the dark windows and large door looms before them and Kurt stops. 'This is me, you can go get your cab now.'

'You sleep upstairs?' Blaine asks, wanting nothing more than to get away from this place but at the same time he just cant leave. Not yet.

'Yes.'

'Let me help you up the stairs, you're hurt.'

Kurt goes quiet again as they enter the house, which is oddly silent for the evening. Kurt wonders if most people are still out. He never speaks to the others, he is not allowed to. In fact Kurt is sure he has never even looked one of them in the eye before. They walk the stairs and Kurt finds he has to lean even more into Blaine as they ascend to the hallway that leads down to his room, they pass the stains and Kurt notices Blaine's eyes fall to look at them more than once.

Finally they reach his room and a veil of silence has fallen over them so thickly Blaine can barely think straight. His cab. He has to get his cab. Kurt opens the door and manages to step inside without Blaine. Blaine stands still, his positioning preventing Kurt from fully closing the heavy door to his room with the creaking doorknob.

Blaine gets out his wallet. Kurt really is the most beautiful angel he has ever seen. _Angel. _

Blaine pulls out a wad of bills that he conceals in the inner lining of the leather wallet.

He holds the cash up to Kurt, splaying it out so Kurt can count it quickly with his eyes. Blaine steps a little forward and the door closes behind him. 'This enough?' Blaine can barely recognize his own voice as he asks the question, rough and guilty as he drops the money on a nearby table.

Kurt nods.

And starts taking off his clothes.

**I was so overjoyed that you guys liked the first chapter I had to give you the next one as soon as possible! I wrote and re-wrote this about ten times and I'm still not sure its completely believable but I really hope you guys like it. In the next chapter I will definitely explore more why Blaine has a change of heart. **

**Let me know what you thought, every one of your reviews inspires me to write more and I'm kind of nervous about this chapter... **


	3. Chapter 3

**WARNINGS: dub-con (sort of... feel free to skip if this makes you uncomfortable), swearing and allusions to drug usage. **

Blaine doesn't say another word, his lips pressed together gently as he watches Kurt undress, each item of thin clothing hitting the floor with practiced flicks of Kurt's nimble fingers. Blaine sets the money by the sink where he spots Kurt's toothpaste and frowns, did he live here? Blaine can't imagine another human living in such a squalid place and is about to mention something but when he turns around Kurt is naked.

The only light in the room flickers from a bedside lamp and Kurt's lithe pale body is shadowed to accentuate the angelic porcelain glow of his skin. Blaine notes the dip in his belly; the smooth outline of his ribs and the sharp edges of his hips, everything about the boy screams a sick youthfulness from his slender legs to his bright sad eyes. Blaine thinks he's the most beautiful man he has ever seen and it disgusts him that this delicately young body resting on a dirtied and dark looking bed makes his heart flip and his cock harden in his pants but it _does. _

Kurt doesn't say another word, the rooms a little cold, the air urging his small pink nipples to pebble hardness. Blaine stares at him with a scrutiny that he is used too. Sometimes they like to look, admire him, make him twirl around. Whilst to some he is a shapeless body to get in and get out to others he is something they want to get their full moneys worth from. Blaine stares at him like he is the first human being he's ever seen and for once in a very long time Kurt feels kind of… beautiful. Not dirty. Beautiful. He swallows and waits. He's not hard; he rarely is, his dick resting softly against his thigh as he shifts to cover it. Not often to his clients make any attempt to get him to climax and if they do its sloppy and rarely works.

Blaine notices the bruises next, flush over Kurt's collarbones with a few to his hips but they're fading. The fresher ones lie as little spots along his inner thighs. Blaine's seen those kind of bruises before, he's vaguely relieved that they look a few days old but he gives his money a wary look. Is he paying for those little bruises? It sickens him to think of the body in front of him being wrecked by whatever Kurt injects himself with. Blaine shakes it off, choosing instead to begin unbuttoning his shirt, letting his suit jacket rest over the only chair in the room.

'You let them hit you?' Blaine asks, the first question to break the silence since they entered the room and Kurt barely flinches.

'Sometimes they pay extra.' Kurt replies. He doesn't want Blaine to know he doesn't have a choice.

'That's disgusting.' Blaine says, folding his shirt over the top of his jacket before starting on his pants.

That time Kurt does flinch. Suddenly he doesn't feel so beautiful anymore. 'What would your wife say if she knew you were here?'

Blaine throws his pants to the side and climbs onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his bare knees as he backs Kurt up against the headboard. Not touching. Not yet. Kurt looks up at him with those grey eyes again, fiercer this time, almost daring him to make the next move. Blaine presses a finger to Kurt lips and trails it down over the boy's soft chin to where the sharp edge of his jaw meets his pale throat before returning it to rest on Kurt's ample mouth.

'Or your daughter.'

Blaine pauses, his jaw setting and anger flaring in his golden irises. 'Its your fault I'm here.' Blaine says eventually and it's the lamest excuse he's ever said.

'Will you ever tell her your gay?'

'I'm not gay.'

Kurt raises an eyebrow, opening his lips so that they drag along the calloused pad of Blaine's finger still pressed to his mouth. 'Our situation rather suggests the opposite.'

'You're just so pretty.' Blaine whispers. 'Like a doll… a porcelain doll, I want… I want you, I want you because you're pretty.'

Blaine starts to touch, his finger sliding back over Kurt's neck and down the center of his chest and Blaine can't help but marvel at how soft Kurt is. Blaine flattens his palm over where Kurt's ribs meet in the middle, his fingers sliding over each bump where bone is pushing at fleshless skin. Kurt watches him in fascination. Usually Kurt has switched off by now, lying back against the covers and trying to remember his life before he was taken. He tries to remember what his mom sounds like or what he dad used to smell like, he tries to remember the sun that used to dance across their front porch in the mid mornings but tonight… Tonight Blaine is touching him so softly he forgets completely and lets himself be touched.

Kurt notes the hitches in Blaine's breath as his fingers skitter over Kurt's hip bones, settling over the bone with a little more pressure than his other touches, forcing Kurt's lower body deeper into the mattress. Kurt reaches forward and does some exploring of his own. Blaine is well built, small but compact and well defined. His fingers reach down to tug at the older mans boxers, pushing them past muscled thighs. Kurt is unsurprised to find Blaine fully hard, every inch of him swollen and pronounced, longer and thicker than Kurt's younger dick.

'Put on a condom.' Kurt says, he says it every time. Sometimes they listen but sometimes they don't and Kurt has to spend a longer time in the shower trying to clean it out of himself, surrounded by other boys doing the same. Blaine nods and leans back from his ministrations to give Kurt a moment to pull one from his drawer, handing it to Blaine on the flat of his palm.

'Put it on me.' Blaine says, ignoring Kurt's outstretched palm. He wants to feel those slender hands on him, the thought makes his cock twitch and he drank enough at the bar that he doesn't feel guilty about how much the power he has over Kurt is turning him on.

Kurt tears open the packet, not looking at Blaine as he rolls the thin plastic over where Blaine is hard and waiting, hearing the older man groan gently as he secures the condom on. Blaine is still kneeling as Kurt rolls onto his belly; he wants to get this over with. Blaine makes him feel different to the other men, he hates that Blaine made him feel beautiful its worse that the usual self-loathing he has because it makes him feel like he could have something more. And then he remembers that he can't. Kurt doesn't want to have to look at Blaine, into those golden orbs and feel special because he's not.

Blaine's breath has deepened to soft pants as his slides his large hands over Kurt's slim sides, wanting to feel as much skin as possible as he nudges the blunt edge of his cock against Kurt's dusky hole, taking a moment to admire the puckered pink flesh and how tight Kurt looks despite his profession. Blaine raises two fingers to his lips and sucks on them slowly, running his tongue over his own knuckle until they are wet enough for Blaine to push them into Kurt, a gentleness taking over his movements despite the animal hunger in his eyes.

Kurt's plump pink lips part and he takes a small sharp inhale of breath at the feeling of Blaine's thick calloused fingers working their way inside him, to his most sensitive area and Kurt doesn't know if he likes the flutter of arousal that beats softly just below his naval. This isn't supposed to be about him. Usually they just shove in and fuck him but Blaine is working him open with a care that makes tears prick Kurt's eyes.

There is money by the sink. Money that Blaine paid Kurt so he could do this to him. That realization makes the flutter of arousal in Kurt's belly die down. He is here because he has to be. Briefly he imagines a different scenario, he meets Blaine in a bar like before but he is smiling and they dance together, Blaine buys him a drink and they talk. They talk freely because Kurt doesn't have any awful secrets to hide. Then they get a cab and Blaine takes him home and then they are here… On the bed with the smell of desire clouding its way through the air and Kurt is arching up and giving a little whimpering moan because he _wants it. _And Blaine is rubbing the tips of his fingers along the sensitive lining of Kurt's clenching walls because he can't wait to be _inside. _There is no money by the sink in Kurt's fantasy. No stained hallway outside. Just the two of them meeting in mutual passion.

Another groan makes Kurt blink softly as he realizes it came from his own mouth without him even meaning to. An honest to god real groan of pleasure as Blaine works him open. Kurt swallows and bites his lip.

'Do you like that?' Blaine's lips skirt along the outer edges of Kurt's soft ear, his voice a low whisper, the strong muscle of his chest pressing against the pronounced bumps of Kurt's spine.

'Yes…' Kurt whispers back, his fingers gripping a little harder into the sheets because that wasn't even a lie. He does like it. Likes the way one of Blaine's hands is still kneading gently at his hip whilst the other pumps slowly inside him, he even likes the soft thud of Blaine's heart beat vibrating through his back from where they are pressed together.

Blaine's fingers slip from his hip, brushing down Kurt's slim and soft belly before they reach his flaccid cock, his lips finding the back of Kurt's neck as he begins to stroke the soft flesh and Kurt makes another little noise because it feels good. Kurt squeezes his eyes shut as an assault of pleasurable sensations rush through him, Blaine's fist tightening around him as he begins to harden under the older mans touch, biting his lip so hard he swears he tastes the tell tale copper of blood on his tongue.

'You're allowed to enjoy it you know…' Blaine whispers against Kurt's back, pulling his fingers out and Kurt actually finds himself pushing back a little, seeking the feeling on his own.

Kurt bites his tongue to keep from retorting. To keep from snapping that he doesn't _want _to enjoy it because this isn't two people having sex it's a transaction, a dirty and soured transaction of sweaty flesh and filthy moans. Instead he stays quiet as Blaine nudges his cock against Kurt's hole once more, bracing himself as he begins to push inside watching the way the young boy tenses and breathes out at the slow intrusion, lips still parted and eyes closed.

Blaine pauses when he's buried inside the slim pale body beneath him, hot clenching heat gripping so hard around his aching dick that Blaine is worried he might come right away and he doesn't want to because he wants to remember this. Remember the way it felt to be deep inside Kurt, the way his skin felt underneath his fingers so that next time he makes love to his wife he can remember and actually get hard. But it's not just that, Blaine finds his fingers sliding over the rough sheets to find Kurt's hand and gripping it in his own, his thumb rubbing at the skin of the boy's wrist as he pulls out only to thrust back inside. The noise Kurt elicits makes Blaine cock throb and his next movement become a little faster, the bed creaking slightly as Blaine pushes and pulls in and out of the hot tight heaven that is Kurt's rounded ass.

Kurt is still. Instead of harsh breath panting in his ear Blaine is peppering kisses down his back and instead of a painful ache in his ass he feels full and warm. Blaine begins to loose himself in the pleasure of it all, mouth opening in soft groans against Kurt's shoulder and the gentle slap of skin on skin making his ears burn and his stomach tighten. Blaine drags his lips down Kurt's spine until he is kneeling behind the boy again, his large hands finding Kurt's ass cheeks and gripping them tightly as he watched himself sink over and over again into that soft pink hole framed by gloriously round globes of flesh. Blaine knows he wont last much longer, a fire starting in his lower spine and a tingle spreading from his tight balls to the root of his dick as he begins to speed up the sensual circles of his hips, thrusting forward in search of the intense release that is building to its ecstatic high within him.

Kurt feels the way Blaine begins to tense, feels the tell tale throb of the dick inside him despite the condom separating them and knows Blaine is nearing his end. Kurt had been relieved when Blaine's thick hands had left his dick, lying soft once again between his legs because the thought of enjoying it makes him feel nauseas. Kurt tries to think of anything but how good Blaine feels inside him, how tender the touch of Blaine's hands on his ass feels and focusing instead on the money by the sink. A dirty transaction. That's all Kurt will allow himself to see this as.

Blaine comes with a passionate groan, his head tilting back and eyes closing as he releases inside the condom, thrusting weakly through his orgasm to prolong the intense fiery pleasure rushing through his veins and making his heart feel like its about to explode from his chest. They stay like that for a few moments, Blaine catching his breath and Kurt trying to stop the warm bubble of tears gathering beneath his lashes from falling over his cheeks.

Eventually Blaine pulls out slowly, tying up the end of the condom and discarding it in a nearby bin. Kurt rolls onto his back and quickly covers himself with a sheet, watching the way Blaine's muscles ripple underneath his taut golden skin as he moves.

Blaine slides a hand back over Kurt's belly and Kurt resists the urge to push him away because he is looking at him like that again. Like Kurt really is the most beautiful thing Blaine has ever seen and Kurt swallows.

'Did you come, angel?' Blaine whispers, his fingers pulling at the edges of Kurt's sheet.

'Yes.' Kurt lies, this time pushing Blaine's prying fingers from his waist because he doesn't want the older man to see.

'Good.' Blaine says, pausing as he lets his eyes wander over Kurt's face leaning forward a little because he wants to feel the soft press of Kurt's lips against his own before he leaves.

'Please don't.' Kurt whispers just before their mouths touch and Blaine pulls back instantly, gone is the confident boy who urged him into his bed and in his place the slim boy with the sad grey eyes. Blaine doesn't question it, simply stepping off the bed and dressing with a melancholy slowness. Kurt watches him, torn between being glad that Blaine is going and wanting the older man to come back and kiss Kurt with the tenderness Kurt knew he was going to, to wrap those strong arms around where Kurt is thin and pale and for once let him sleep feeling safe and content but… Kurt does not let himself long for such things. For he knows they will never be a reality.

Blaine pauses by the sink once he is dressed, not letting himself look at Kurt again as he places a few more bills on top of what he had already paid.

Blaine closes the door behind him.

A scream down the hallway makes his stomach turn as he walks down the steps until he outside in the unforgiving night.

Blaine walks back to the pub, surprised to find his cab still waiting as he slips inside and thanks the driver.

Blaine stares out the window, watching the houses fly by him in a dark blur.

Blaine thinks about the pale boy with the sad grey eyes and the porcelain skin. Lifting his thumb and forefinger Blaine rubs against his temple and between his eyes, wondering at what point of the night his headache disappeared.

The memory of Kurt's soft mouth and dulcet tones hangs over his head like the sharp edges of a guillotine. The smell of mint and cheap cologne clings to him, working its way under his skin like the thorn of a rose.

By the time Blaine gets home, dragging his goddamn umbrella through his wooden front door, he has forced all memory of the night down, not letting himself wish he was still curled against Kurt, running his lips over each of the boys bruises and promising no one will ever hurt him again. Instead he hangs up his jacket in the dark reception room of his large house and puts his wallet on the kitchen counter before heading upstairs. One look into his bedroom tells him Janie is asleep, clutching a hot water bottle to her belly and Blaine guesses she is having one of her stomachaches again. Blaine doesn't let the guilt rush over him, instead he just feels numb as he makes his way to his daughters room, pushing the pink and flowery door open and slipping quietly inside.

Erin's small soft pink fists rest against her embroidered pillow, her lips parted in slumber as her small chest rises and falls rhythmically. Blaine pulls a chair up to the side of her cot and sits there, leaning down briefly to press a kiss to her forehead, letting the comforting smell of her fill his nostrils. It is only then, his head bowed and elbows resting against the painted white sides of his babies cradle that he lets the tears fall, running quickly over his weathered cheeks and off the edge of his jaw, a few splashing against the white of Erin's pillow, leaving a few dark blotches.

'Sweet dreams angel.' Blaine whispers.

* * *

Kurt doesn't sleep, lying on his side instead as he stares at the wall. The pile of money Blaine left lies uncounted by the sink because Kurt can't bring himself to even look at it. The green crisp notes only remind of him of what happened and Kurt feels confused and sick all at once.

Beautiful. Blaine made him feel beautiful. Kurt rolls onto his back and skirts his fingers down his own belly, following the path that Blaine's rough fingers had made, squeezing at his own hips like Blaine had and running over his own ribs. The action makes him shiver, soft goose bumps rising on his skin as the memory flushes through him.

Only the sound of his doorknob turning makes Kurt's fingers freeze in their tracks.

* * *

**I was pretty nervous to post this chapter... I promise you Klaine happiness will happen, Blaine will get his angel.**

**Your reviews honestly inspire me so, if you can, take a moment to let me know what you thought? **

**All my love and thanks. x **


End file.
